


The Things I Left Unsaid

by GoldenSnowflake



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alien Culture, Awkward Conversations, Future Fic, Gen, Irken Empire, M/M, Multi, Outer Space, Post-Canon, Post-Irken Victory, Sexual Tension, Sexual exploration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenSnowflake/pseuds/GoldenSnowflake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t like his dreams hadn’t come true. They had. Vindication had come. Dib Membrane had been redeemed, but he was nobody’s hero. ZADR futurefic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here I am! I got the idea for this story a few months ago, but I didn't begin to write it until the beginning of summer break. This is honestly one of the stories I've planned the most for, and I really hope I can do the idea justice. I would really appreciate your feedback - feel free to critique if there's anything you don't particularly like. ZADR is one of my favorite pairings, so I hope I can provide a compelling argument for it.
> 
> In any case, I'll be back soon with the next chapter. =)

During history class, ProfessorBot started whirring.

The girl in the back corner of the room who had been dozing jumped a little, but nobody else moved a muscle. Everyone was used to it by now.

“An error has been detected. We are sorry for any inconvenience. Please stand by for reboot.”

ProfessorBot’s screen went black and a collective sigh rose into the air. The humanoid metal frame attached to an old-fashioned TV screen emitted a shrill beep and the screen filled with light. The all-too-familiar jingle rang out as the montage of vaguely educational pictures began. The girl at the back of the room put her head back down and closed her eyes.

“Where werrrre we?” the computerized and barely female voice drawled. “Class?”

After a moment of silence, the robotic hand perched on the table scooted toward the panel beside a jar of untouched pencils. One rusty finger tapped down on the yellow button there.

The floor panel under each desk gave a sudden, harsh creak. The sound of two dozen sets of eyes snapping open was almost as loud.

“Let’s not resort to the dungeons again, shallll we?”

In the silence, somebody gulped. ProfessorBot’s finger creaked and hovered over the red button.

A boy with bluish hair towards the back of the room lifted a reluctant hand.

“Yesss, Alpha-8019E72?”

“We were beginning World War III, Ma’am.”

“Oh, yes. Now that we’re allll participating, what can you tell me about World War III, children?”

“It was the last Earth war,” the blue-haired boy replied.

“Correct!” The digitized human face flashed briefly to a smiley-face. “Now, we often refer to it as the last Earth war, but what is incorreeect about that statement?”

A girl in the front row raised her hand, blinking her bright purple eyes.

“Yesss, Delta-8076C98?”

“It took place on Planet Earth, but it was between the Earthlings and the Irkens.”

“Correct!” came an identical, computerized chirp. “Did the Earthlings win or lose?”

“Looose,” the class drawled in unison.

“Correct! And who lead the Earthlings?”

“Diiib Membraaaane.”

“Correct! Now, does anybody remember what happened to the Earthlings?” The screen swung toward the hand that went up. “Alpha-8035B22?”

“They … exploded?”

“WRONG,” ProfessorBot bellowed, and the hinged floor panel squealed as it swung open, hurling the screeching boy, desk and all, into the dungeon.

A long moment passed before a particularly dark-skinned girl raised a shaking hand.

“Yesss, Tango-8016C95?”

“Th-the Irken tried to make them mine for all the gold and coal and oil a-and stuff.”

“Correct!”

“Um, but-”

“Yesss?”

“The Earthlings turned out to be so useless that they shipped Vortians in to d-do it instead.”

“Correct! Very goooood, dear.”

Gulping, the girl smiled nervously.

“Now, we call the descendants of the Earthlings humans, but arrre they?”

A hand shot up, this one belonging to a very pale girl with freckles. Before ProfessorBot could formally address her she had started to answer.

“Technically, no, we are not. The experimental and eventually successful cross-breeding with other genetically similar species has made us less human and more advanced.”

ProfessorBot’s screen snapped with static in response to the child’s answer. “Very gooood,” it drawled, using a soundbyte from what was surely an ancient movie. “Trivia: an individual is not considered to be human is five or more major organs are artificial.”

The girl with striking violet eyes made a worried face and waved her hand in the air.

“Yesss, Delta-8076C98?”

“Do cosmetic enhancements count?”

“¿Quieres patatas con su ensalada, mamá?”

A few kids muttered, irritated.

“Language set to: ENGLISH. Now, then, class, where werrrre we?”

The entire class let out a collective groan.

“It’s gonna be a long day,” a chubby boy murmured, leaning back in his seat and staring at the ceiling.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologize, because the way I wrote this was in small snippets and not in chapters, so the presentation may seem somewhat disjointed. I'm doing my best though to find good places to end each chapter and begin the next. Thank you for bearing with me.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my work! I put my heart into this story, and your support means the world to me.
> 
> On to Chapter Two...

Dib remembered how it all started.

He couldn’t entirely blame Dwicky, but that didn’t stop him from resenting the junior high counselor. He has turned out to be just another idiot who had written Dib off as delusional, even though Dib had presented him with piles of meticulous notes and overwhelming (albeit circumstantial) evidence. Dwicky has dismissed his life’s work as nonsense until the proof had landed right in front of his face.

But Dwicky had also been the only kind of person worse than a skeptic.

He was a meddler.

Dib remembered the exhilaration at finally having someone on his side - someone inquisitive and friendly and willing to listen. And most importantly, an adult. Having and ally with a little more influence and respect would help immensely in his struggle to inform mankind of the danger in its midst.

“So,” Dwicky had chirped. Dib looked up from twiddling his thumbs anxiously in his lap. “When did Zim get here? I haven’t had a chance to look over his files.”

“He’s been here since eight months and twenty-three days ago,” Dib had answered promptly.

“Wow.” The man had blinked his big blue eyes. “You sure do know a lot about him.”

Dib beamed proudly. “I keep very precise records.”

Dwicky looked away for a while. Afternoon was fading into evening, and no alien had yet arrived. The boy kicked his feet back and forth patiently, no less undeterred.

“Dib?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you have many friends?”

The kid had frowned a little. “Besides you … not really.”

Mr. Dwicky hesitated a moment to take the fact in. “Are there any girls you like?” He nudged Dib with his elbow and cocked his head to the side. “Y’know … like-like?”

Dib’s dubious expression had faded and he had answered, “Um … no. Not really.” He thought for a moment. “If you’re implying that I might have any emotional ties that would hold me back from risking my life to stop Zim, I assure you, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Oh. Uh, that’s good!”

Dib has blinked up at the counselor. “I hope this doesn’t seem rude, but you look kind of distracted. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know soon. We need to be on our toes if we want to catch Zim and interrogate him.”

“ _Well…_ ” Dwicky squinted a little, and Dib looked up at him in curiosity. “…Dib, do you ever think of yourself as, well … different?”

“ _Different?_ Are you kidding me?! I’m more than different.” Looking back at the clearing they were spying on, he scoffed. “I’m the only one who sees Zim for what he really is.”

“Yeah, but I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being special. Some people are born feeling differently about the world, and some are different if they have unusual homes - ones where they only have one parent … or ones where the parent is working and is gone a lot.”

“Hmmm.”

Dib had furrowed his brow, staring at the ground and seeming to take this in.

The hand clapping gently down on his shoulder made Dib jump.

“You’re just a kid. A bright one,” Dwicky mused aloud. “But if you ever feel different in any way - when you’re older, maybe - that’s perfectly okay.”

The budding paranormal investigator smiled up at the counselor. “Thanks, Mr. Dwicky. But … what does that have to do with Zim?”

Dwicky made the three-part humming noise for I-don’t-know and gave a jerky shrug. “Possibly nothing. But if it does have something to do with Zim, you’ll know.”

Finally, the boy lowered his raised eyebrow. “O…kay.”

Dwicky had fixed him in that buggy-eyed stare before smiling and chuckling softly.

Mystifying.

Dib figured out what Dwicky had meant exactly one year and four months later.

  


-xxx-

 

It was an average day - a lot of insults and being shouldered roughly in the hallway. Dib had lectured three kids on the importance of his work by lunchtime, calling after each of them, “You’ll see! _Someday,_ you’ll see.” He did great on his math quiz and actually got 100% on his history test (although he didn’t get any points for his bonus paragraph on the Nazis having been possessed by the spirits of vampires.) When Ms. Bitters handed his test back, she glared at his wide-eyed grin.

During lunch he overheard it.

Usually, the jocks argued about who gave the best wedgies and professional sports teams. Today, the snippets of conversation he overheard made him squirt orange juice out of his nose.

“It’s only, like, after my parents go to bed. Y’know?”

“What do you watch?”

“The pay channels my bro gets.”

“Whoa!”

“Damn.”

“My mom doesn’t let stuff like that in the house. I gotta just do it in the shower.”

“Ha ha,” jeered one of the beefy football players. “So what do you think about?”

“U-uh-” The kid shrugged nervously. “Y’know, stuff.”

“Why you scared to tell us? You’re not a faggot, are ya, dude? Huh?”

“ _Zita,_ ” he blurted. As soon as the syllables passed through his lips he clapped a hand over his mouth.

“ _Zita? ___”

“Zita and _you?!_ ”

“I just do it in my bed.”

“Oh, man, that’s fucking gross.”

“Do you use a sock?”

Gaz put down her forkful of peas, raising an eyebrow as Dib rubbed the orange juice off his face with the back of his sleeve. “What’s the matter, Dib? Thought you were the only one?”

The paranormal investigator stared at his sister. “ _Gaz!_ ”

“Well you’re not, so get over yourself.”

“Gaz!” he hissed again. “I don’t _do_ that.”

“You don’t?!” she gawked. “How old are you?”

“I don’t have time for stuff like that. I’m busy saving the world!”

“Seriously. And I thought you couldn’t get any weirder. Don’t you even have any- like- you know what, I don’t wanna know.”

Dib opened his mouth to defend himself when his sister scooted her chair back.

“Why don’t you go ask Zim? He’s an _alien_. Maybe he doesn’t get boners either.”

As Gaz picked her tray up and left, Dib’s mouth fell open, closed, then opened again.

“HA!”

Dib glared across the room towards the source of the noise. Zim sneered mockingly at him.

“The Dib-worm flaps his sustenance-hole like a fish!”

Clenching his fists, Dib raised his voice. “AT LEAST I’M NOT A GIANT SPACE LIZARD!” He glared daggers at Zim before remembering what Gaz had said. Before Zim could spit back a retort, Dib had turned beet-red and sprinted out of the room.

  


-xxx-

 

The bass throbbed through the floor, and overhead, the dim magenta and amber lights pulsed to the thrum. He swallowed another mouthful of his drink and ran his tongue over the front of his teeth. He was already angry, and the fact that the most expensive alcohol in the galaxy only tasted like sugar water on his human taste buds served to piss him off more. Out here, it didn’t matter if you were the person your race revered as the only one who could have saved them. Out here it didn’t matter that you had led the strongest military defense your planet had ever organized.

And quite frankly, none of that mattered to Dib Membrane anyway.

The carnal beat of the music was doing little to soothe the racing of his heart as his mind tried to close in on itself, wrapping itself in web after web of inescapable memory of a time when his knees were covered in dirt and the city rose up around him like a cage and the stars seemed very far away. Memories so solidified in the mind of his younger self that no amount of alcohol could ever, ever blot them out.

  


-xxx-

 

It was extremely rare for Dib to fall asleep thinking about himself.

Amber eyes would hold the dusty ceiling as the mind beneath them drifted from theory to theory. Grainy footage. Footprints. The sealed records of corpsmen now locked in mental wards. Abductions; animal maimings. Chapters in history books that were surreptitiously deleted and lost.

It was even rarer for him to think about school.

His eyes fluttered shut in horror as he recalled their conversation.

Was it really that strange to not …? He did have … feelings.

Feelings that were light and fluttery and thick and heavy all at once. Unbidden sensations in the pit of his stomach that left him squirmy and inexplicably irritated. But he just…

…he just _didn’t have time_.

The click in his throat was audible as he folded one hand beneath the covers to run his fingertips tentatively along the hem of his shirt.

 _He didn’t even know what he was doing_.

When he slipped his hand into his boxers his heart stuttered and heat tingled in his cheeks, making him squirm in embarrassment and anxiety.

The gradual response was a soft pulsing of his heartbeat between his legs that made his stomach tighten and his mouth feel dry.

It wasn’t difficult to figure out. The heat built up in sharp bursts when he moved his fingers, and gentle, uncertain squeezes sent a dark and profound whirl of warmth through his head. His heart was suddenly thrumming against his chest, and an almost-painful tautness began to take him over that made his head tilt back and the cords in his neck tighten as his back arched minutely toward his fingers.

Dib cracked his eyes open, his dry lips pulling apart for air. Heat was clinging to his skin as he slid his legs further apart and he began to work waster. His objective was beginning to make itself known. The air tasted like dust and his sheets felt too rough and he could see every crack and flaw in his moonwashed ceiling.

He suddenly realized that he was supposed to be thinking of something.

Panic filled him as he gasped for air, his movements hastening as his mind whirled, frantically searching.

_the pay channels my bro gets_

 

_Zita_

 

_Why don’t you go ask Zim?_

 

_He’s an alien._

 

Dib’s eyes flew open in shock at his own mind. He was supposed to be thinking about something embarrassing and dirty but the only thing that made him feel angry and awake and alive

 

and _exhilarated_

 

was being at the point of a loaded gun and

 

being torn into by little razor-sharp claws

 

and staring in panic and anger into those deep

 

red

 

eyes

  


 

 

His head flew back as his heels dug into the sheets and he spurted hot thick wetness into his clammy fingers and against his heavy comforter.

He melted spinelessly onto the bed, panting and letting his head loll to the side on his dull blue pillowcase.

_Shit._

The moon was irritatingly bright, and he squeezed his eyes shut before turning to face away from his window.

He felt filthy.

The world swung dangerously around him as the boy slid off his bed and onto the carpet. He stumbled on legs the consistency of jelly to the bathroom, where he slapped cold, soapy water onto his hands and face and on his thighs and his crotch. He wobbled back to his room and tried not to be overcome by the heaviness in his head.

Dib collapsed onto his bed with a kind of weight he hadn’t thought possible.

Groping blindly for the covers, he pulled them tight around himself and moved his leg to avoid the damp spot. He gave a long, shuddering sigh and closed his eyes exhaustedly. He didn’t have any energy to worry about the implications.

They would be there tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't like his dreams hadn't come true. They had.

Vindication had come.

Come in the form of air raid sirens and the blaring warble of the Emergency Alert System over radios in kitchens and cars, in the form of hysterically screeching little girls and car alarms and international news coverage by the few anchors stupid enough to do their jobs as buildings disintegrated under Organic Sweep canons and the fleet descended to collect the few worthy specimens and the sky fell, ripped away in streamlined, Irken-piloted pieces.

The most popular girl in skool had tripped over a curb as a flock of children streamed, angry and horrified and tear-streaked, out of the tiny building that had been the scope of their existence only seconds before. Her skirt was torn and her hair was stuck to the side of her mouth and she had looked up at him with huge, empty eyes. She has rasped the three words so low that Dib barely heard her.

You were right.

The one sentence Dib Membrane had fought with his every waking breath for hung there in the air, still in the smoke and rubble and the sickening quake of the Earth beneath his boots. He barely heard it.

"I have to find Gaz," he said, staring into her blue eyes. And he stepped around her, hurtling toward the skool as it folded in on itself.

Dib Membrane had been redeemed, but he was nobody's hero.

Professor Membrane was spared because of his eagerness to embrace the Irken race, and he became something of an oddity almost immediately. Hundreds of thousands tuned in every forty-eight hours to watch him invent new utensils and double the efficiency of Nitrogen-powered carriers. He was as useful as he was peculiar, and he had performed feats of science before the Tallest multiple times, much to their delight.

Gaz had impressed the general who had captured her and Dib with her sheer indifference, and had even been offered the first honorary naturalization into Irken society in a century, which she had rejected with a growl and an irritated wave of her hand.

And, somehow, in the wake of mankind's destruction, Dib felt strangely empty.

The upheaval that had ended a 4.5 billion year long story and a 20,000 year old race - that had validated all that he was and believed and defended for all of his short twelve years - seemed somehow underwhelming.

He had become a person - an individual; one of a rare species that had soft and pliable flesh and only two eyes and a couple dozen vertebrae. He wore obsolete, removable optical enhancers and had dark sideburns that somehow made his head and scythe-lock look even more awkward. He was tall and lanky, and he wore silly zip-up hoodies and baggy black jeans that entirely nullified the usefulness of his heavy boots. He bought his groceries in bulk and appeared at the local tavern regularly, where he listened and watched but never did the talking. He checked intermediately advanced books out of the data hub on the moon nearby on physics and galaxies and he dutifully returned them when it came back by on its orbit.

He was just…

…a person.

Sometimes he was moderately happy. He was independent and self-sufficient, and for the first time, he was only subjected to the occasional stare from a child who had never seen a human before.

Sometimes it made him furious.

His passion had proven itself to be legitimate, but had simultaneously ended the faint fragment of hope that had driven him to persist. He felt obsolete and useless without vague testimonies to debunk and photos to analyze and aliens…

…Irkens to spy on.

He was angry at himself for not trying harder; angry at his greedy and idiotic race for meeting his desperate pleas with ridicule and humiliation. And he was angriest at the tiny green alien who had lived down the street, mocking and frustrating and motivating him to go on. It didn't matter that Tak had been the one to ultimately convince the Tallest that Earth was a worthwhile resource. It was Zim who had provoked in Dib a bitter hatred he hadn't thought himself capable of.

It was Zim who had let Tak step in to undermine their battle and destroy the delicate, ever-shifting balance that had consumed every minute of Dib's and his existence. It was Zim's stupidity that had let an unknown factor disrupt the only measure of self-worth the paranormal investigator ever had.

It was Zim who had led him to believe that everything he had could be enough.

The music throbbed through the ground and rattled up his spine as the human reminded himself to breathe. That idiotic little shit wasn't worth the effort.

He had to let it go.

Dib smacked the glass down onto the bar and stared hollowly down at the amber ring of liquid glinting at the bottom. His head felt thick and heavy, and his heart thrummed as he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. On days like this he almost wished that he could see the Irken's face again to greet it with a fist and to tell him what a waste of space he was. But the universe was immense and its galaxies were uncountable. He was fixated on a confrontation that was never to come.


	4. Chapter 4

After the first time, it didn’t happen for a week.

Dib had chalked it up to his exhaustion and stress levels and had made himself let it go. He had been tired and flustered and his mind had gone to what he knew best. He vaguely understood the mechanics of sex, but he wasn’t interested in any of the girls at his skool (he barely had time to pine away for any of them when he was the only one keeping them safe from being enslaved by intergalactic space monsters.)

Everything went normally. Gaz listened to everything he had to say before calling him stupid, and their dad had called to briefly video-chat about a new invention he planned to publicly announce the next day. Dib ordered a fake shrub off the Internet and cut eyeholes in the front, then went shuffling down Zim’s walkway in order to plant some new surveillance cameras. He had gotten halfway to the door when Gir had exploded out of the window, screeching about toothpaste and wielding a lasso made of floss. Dib held still and everything had been fine until Gir lifted a leg and peed oil on him, and he screamed in horror as Gir screamed in excitement, and the gnomes had ripped off his costume and dumped him off on the curb. He got solid B’s on his quizzes and one of his fan letters got read on Mysterious Mysteries (even though the host has visibly rolled his eyes behind his glasses.)

On Wednesday the coil suddenly furled itself in his stomach.

He was sitting in English when a sudden anxiety filled him and he squirmed in his seat. It crept down his legs and began to work its way into his stomach, and it so took him by surprise that he sucked in a breath and gripped the edge of his desk. Immediately Zim was sneering suspiciously at him from across the room. Dib met his gaze and swallowed thickly, slowly relaxing his fingers and letting out a breath. Anxiety pounded in his chest and heat filled his face as he pressed his back against the seat and forced himself to look at his notes.

Zim’s glare burned into the side of his head and Dib couldn’t help but think that the alien understood.

Time slowed to a dizzying crawl as the paranormal investigator swallowed and tapped his pencil on his desk. He felt hot and achy, and the longer he tried to ignore it, the more irritating it became. He began to scribble idly in the margins of his homework, wiping his clammy free hand on his pants. He tried to look busy as Zim watched him, hawklike. The rest of the day dragged until the minute hand finally creaked to the 12 and everybody bolted for the door.

The second he got in his house he ran to the bathroom. The hot water pounding into his skin wasn’t the reason that after three short minutes he sank to his knees, shuddering and gasping for breath.

“Dammit,” he whispered softly.

When he squeezed his eyes shut, a sickly green lingered in his mind and on the backs of his eyelids. He knew it was stupid, but…

…he felt like Zim knew.

Slamming his second glass down, Dib stood up. He was done.

The mesmerizing rise and fall of the mass of bodies almost looked like a single organism beneath the flicker of the staggered lights. He skirted the edge of the crowd as he searched the faces. Almost immediately, he saw her.

Her eyes were wide and bright, and she moved delicately to the subtle, looping melody beneath the heavy bass. She had long, spidery eyelashes and pale, curving talons, and there was something beautiful about the inverted arch of her spine. He slipped through the writhing crowd and approached her.

“Hi.”

She blinked up at him and smiled shyly, and he knew she would be perfect.

He could have anybody he wanted.

-xxx-

Dib was close to seventeen before he realized he was beautiful.

The boy was accustomed to being something of a spectacle. He had always been sneered and gawked at as a kid, and when he had to stop every few light years for directions to the new housing development just west of the Irken empire’s border, he assumed that the odd stares had something to do with the fact that the rest of the humans were in zoos or breeding experiments or were put in boxes on store shelves when the pet rocks were out of stock. It wasn’t until he had been settled into his new house for a few Earth-years that the females around the city had started to pursue him. It had been a few years more until he had dared to indulge any. He had learned as quickly as he could and, after the first few times, felt that he had a handle on it. Having had no encounters with other humans to bias him enabled Dib to be open-minded and receptive to the different ways in which different species mated. And despite his frequent mumblings against forked tongues and multiple rows of teeth - she wasn’t going to bite anything off afterwards, right? Were there any barbs he needed to know about? - he had never left a partner unsatisfied.

Afterwards, as she’d slip into a sleepy half-doze, he would lie awake for hours to observe. How many lungs or air sacs did she have? Was there any notable pulse, and if so, how did it compare to his? Did joints lock up during the sleep cycle or did she relax as her body repaired? The next day he would sit and take copious amounts of notes. Gradually, he began to feel like a normal person and less like an oddity. He had settled into a strangely normal life that kept him sufficiently distracted.

As with all good things that happened to Dib Membrane, however, this sense of normalcy wasn’t to last.

-xxx-

It was only three Earth-days later when Dib returned to lose himself to the endless beat of the music once more. The towering centipede-like creature who worked as the second-shift bartender recognized him as he made his way to the bar and slithered away to make what Dib ordered every night he came by. The human hesitated before sliding into his seat and breathing in the heady scent of bodies and rich wooden tables and cheap, ineffective alcohol. It was easy to lose himself here, and when he couldn’t sleep and his mind reached out toward childhood memories that hovered in the shadows like phantoms, his first inclination was to come here as quickly as his two-seater cruiser could take him. The bartender returned to place the heavy mug on the counter, sliding it across with a segmented, skeletal arm.

Dib had raised the mug to his lips when he heard it.

“You dare to question me?”

The chime of a raspy and high-pitched voice pierced the rhythmic thrum of the music.

“Sir, I apologize, but you’re very short and we’ll need to see verification that you are out of your larval stage.”

“You stinking fool! Do you not recognize one of the greatest invaders ever to have lived?!”

Cup half-tipped toward his mouth, Dib froze.

It couldn’t be.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m going to need to see verification of your age.”

“How dare you! I am a century older than you, filthy guard-creature!”

“Sir, if you refuse to comply, I’m going to have to ask you to-”

“I AM ZIM!!”

Dib’s mug cracked against the bar as he whirled around in his seat.

It was.

The light from the street illuminated the tiny figure in the doorway, casting a pinkish hue on the pale green skin. Little clawed hands waved wildly about in outrage as two bright red eyes narrowed in fury, a set of serrated teeth glinting in the dim light as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Zim!”

Antennae twitching at the sound of his name, the tiny creature blinked and whipped toward the sound of the voice.

Dib closed the distance between them in half a second.

Zim hit the floor with a snarl of outrage and was tearing his claws into the human’s stomach almost instantly.

“You little insect!” Dib aimed a blow at one bright eye, missing and knocking the side of Zim’s head before cracking one knuckle open against the floor.

“Dib-pig,” the Irken sneered, the sickly-sweet pang of talons digging into Dib’s stomach making him shout in anguish. “How have your survived this long away from your filthy little ball of dirt?”

As he opened his mouth to reply, Zim’s knee dug into his abdomen and Dib gasped hoarsely. Ripping his arms back to clutch at his stomach, he reeled, numbed by the sudden shock of having the wind knocked out of him. Zim shoved him back and his shoulder smacked against the floor as the barstool above him toppled.

“Sir!”

The silhouette of the lanky bouncer fizzled into view as Dib sat up groggily.

“You’re gonna have to leave if you don’t knock it off.”

“Tell it to that little waste of space,” Dib heard himself snap, and he leaned against the counter and wheezed before stumbling to his feet.

Zim hit him like a hurricane had propelled him.

The rounded edge of the bar rammed into Dib’s back and he howled in fury, finding the Irken’s shoulders and yanking his away just as Zim’s teeth sank into his neck. The rip of flesh sounded like paper tearing and the Irken flew across the room, slamming into the doorframe and crumpling.

“Out,” the bouncer was growling, and the burbling anger in his voice made it obvious that he was from an aquatic planet. There were huge, thick fingers digging into Dib’s collarbone and suddenly he was shoved toward the door. “And take the kid with you.”

“He’s not a kid,” Dib spat, pulling away from the fish-man’s grip. “He’s Zim.”

“Not my problem. Get out of my sight and get him out of here too. Any more dead bodies showin’ up here and Gorloch will be paying us a visit.”

“What? Who’s-”

The bouncer shoved the Irken against Dib’s chest with enough force to send him stumbling backward into the street.

“No, I-”

The door slammed before he could protest, muffling the beat of the music and leaving him out in the whir of the busy town. Dib turned his glare at the creature in his arms. “This is all your fault, you worthless little- Zim!”

He shook the Irken violently. One antenna hung limply over his wrist.

“Zim?”

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, here I am! I got the idea for this story a few months ago, but I didn't begin to write it until the beginning of summer break. This is honestly one of the stories I've planned the most for, and I really hope I can do the idea justice. I would really appreciate your feedback - feel free to critique if there's anything you don't particularly like. ZADR is one of my favorite pairings, so I hope I can provide a compelling argument for it.
> 
> In any case, I'll be back soon with the next chapter. =)


End file.
